The Oak Above Bag End
by limegreenarcher
Summary: In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. But on the hill above this hole there stands a great oak tree, home of the nature spirit Ilaira. She secretly watches over the Shire and Hobbits of Bag End, her kind having faded into mere fairy tales long ago. Yet when a dark force threatens the world, and the hobbits so dear to her, she will sacrifice everything in order to help them.
1. Chapter 1: Servants of the Valar

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings, all rights belong to J.R.R Tolkien and Peter Jackson respectively. I only own my OC's. This applies to the whole fanfiction as I am likely to forget.**

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 **A/N: Just a quick note, this fic is a mixture of the books and films, so don't worry if you haven't read the books. There will be no romance between my OC and any other characters-if that is what you're after there are plenty of other fics out there. This is a tenth walker fic. I have researched as much as I can into nature spirits in Tolkien's world and have obviously taken some artistic license when creating the race. There is some lore in this chapter and I tried to keep it as short as possible; I hope it is not too confusing, but please let me know.**

 **The song at the beginning is called 'Hey ho to the bottle I go' and Peter Hollens does a great cover of it in his 'Hobbit drinking medley' on Youtube, so do go check that out because he does so many beautiful lotr covers. And without further ado, let's get this thing started!**

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 **Chapter 1: Servants of the Valar**

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" _Hey ho, to the bottle I go! To heal my heart and drown my woe! Rain may fall and wind may blow, but there'll still beeeeeee many miles to go! Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain, and the stream that falls from hill to plain. Better than rain or rippling brook-"_

"Is a mug of beer inside this Took!"

Raucous laughter spilled out into the evening air from inside _'The Green Dragon'_ inn as Pippin sang the final line of the joyous song, and Ilaira couldn't help but join in with the hobbits merriment by releasing a small chuckle of her own. She had been humming and singing along to the drinking tune from her position atop the inns roof, her back leaning against one of the brick chimneys as she smiled up at the stars, her foot tapping along and head swaying side to side as she pretended to conduct them with her finger; for in Ilaira's opinion it was a tune worthy of conducting, so carefree and full of joy as it was.

It would be completely impossible though for her to conduct them in any of their merry tunes, and it was for the same reason that she was sitting here alone on the dark roof instead of enjoying the warm glow of a fire inside; the hobbits did not know she existed, despite the fact that she had lived in the Shire for around 3,028 years.

The truth of it was that no one in all of Middle Earth knew of her existence, nor her peoples. Those who knew of her race and are still alive now have likely forgotten, for her kind have not walked the earth for 3,041 years, since before the end of the Second Age.

No record of them exists, for the Queens of Ilaira's race took all of their scrolls and ancient writings with them when they disappeared; mentions of them in other races texts are few and far between, and so are dismissed as a writer's crazy fantasies, used in order to entice and capture the reader's imagination, or a simple error where they must have mistaken a real race for this fairy tale one.

However, Ilaira's race is no fairy tale.

They have been called many things through the ages, for they have existed since the creation of Arda itself; fae, nymph, sprite. But simply put, they are the race of Nature Spirits; the embodiment of all natural things that make up the world, from the trees to the rivers, the winds to the mountains, and they are all the servants of the Valar, the great powers of Arda who shaped the world.

The nature spirits are the servants of the Valar for it is they who created them at the beginning of all things:

First came the Spirits of the Sky, born from the very breath of Manwë, Wind Lord and First King. He is the breath of all living things in Arda and controls the air, wind, clouds and storms. The women of the clouds, a name given to the spirits by the race of Men, are the embodiment of these things, and carry out their Lords orders, taking great pride and even boasting of their powerful creator, King of all Valar. They are free to wonder the skies and gleefully cause mischief for those below, stealing washing off lines and blowing wind up women's skirts; you would be hard pressed to see them do these deeds, for they are almost transparent in appearance, made of the roaring wind itself. Yet they are a pessimistic and detached people, for they can never set foot upon the earth, forever to remain in the skies above.

It was Ulmo, Lord of the Waters, who created the Water Spirits. He has command over the movement of all water on Middle Earth, from great oceans, lakes and rivers, to mist, dew and rain. Every lake, river, stream and brook he created with a water spirit to care and watch over it, and the women of the waters are a proud and regal people, much more reserved than the spirits of the sky. Water women are gentle, kind and hospitable, having a more realistic approach to life than the other spirits, yet they can be as changing as their creator; one moment calm, then without warning a raging storm the next.

The Mountain Spirits were created by Aulë, The Smith and The Maker of Mountains. He shaped Arda and was master of all crafts, maker of the race of Dwarves, whom are the only other beings the mountain spirits care for in the world. Aulë's spouse is Yavanna the Fruitful, creator of the Forest Spirits, though despite this the two kinds of spirits do not get along. The men of the mountains come into being when a mountain is made, though they are large, brutish and simple minded; these are the spirits which the women of the forests loathe so much. However, there are a few men of the mountains who are not like this; they appear as all the other spirits do, _their_ mountains having been carved into grand halls by the race of Dwarves, refining them and imbuing the mountain spirits with civility and grandeur. This is why they love the dwarves so.

Finally we come to the Spirits of the Forests, their creator Yavanna, Queen of the Earth, guardian of all living things and creator of all forests upon Middle Earth, as tall and elegant as a cypress tree. The women of the forests are the guardians of all Olvar; every living thing which is rooted in the ground, and each plant and tree has a spirit of its own. Ilaira is one such spirit, her people optimistic and joyful, appearing to be naïve on the outside as they are carefree and prefer to stay rooted to one place for their whole lives, never venturing into the wide world around them; yet they are actually grounded in reality, aware of everything going on around them, their compassion for all living things their biggest strength. Though perhaps it is also a weakness?

All nature spirits are the size of Hobbits, and are a peaceful people. It was because of this that Yavanna created the Ent's, to protect her forest spirits from that which they could not run from.

Nature spirits, with the exception of spirits of the sky, cannot stray far from their Soul Origin, that from which they were born. For a forest spirit it is their Soul Tree or Plant, for a water spirit their Soul River or Lake, and for a mountain spirit it is their Soul Mountain. When a nature spirit comes into being, such as a forest spirit, it is because a tree or plant has also come into being, therefore the nature spirits very soul and life force is attached to said tree. Part of them resides there, and part of their tree also resides within them; it is what gives them their powers and the ability to manipulate their element. So if one of them should die or perish, so would the other; the forest spirits are understandably the most vulnerable to this, as a mountain or river cannot be burnt or felled with ease. When a spirit does travel away from their Soul Origin they are incredibly weakened, and can even die if they go too far. Fortunately, they can all feel when they are being weakened and reached the limit of their travel, almost like a barrier has been raised, though it is easily passable.

The only exceptions are the spirits who are considered to be royalty and are part of the Spirit Council; there are twelve members in all, four spirits each from the domains of forest, sky and water, including the Queens of each element.

These council members are more powerful than your average nature spirits, being able to travel wherever they wish too and having no boundary around their Soul Origin. But it is the Queens who hold the most power of all; they have the ability to perform great rituals, such as the one required to grant spirits a short time away from their Soul Origin. However, even when this ritual is performed a spirit will still feel weakened by the distance between them and their Soul Origin; even the Queens and council members feel this weakness when travelling far and wide across Middle Earth.

So now you too know of the nature spirits, and perhaps you have seen them in your garden, tending to the roses or making the blossoms bloom in spring time, or making the leaves fall in autumn; or perhaps you have not.

Ilaira continued to hum the merry tune and tap her foot, despite the drinking song having ended long ago, the full moon bright in the midnight sky as it illuminated the rolling hills of the Shire below.

Ilaira looked at her tapping foot, her mind wandering aimlessly (as it often does when one is relaxed and content about everything in that current moment) and she contemplated her likeness to hobbits. Her feet were and had always been bare, yet they were of average size, much smaller than a hobbits, and whilst her ears were pointed they more like the elves ears than the Halflings.

So really, when she thought about it, she only shared their height and light-hearted temperament, and if she were to wander among them she was almost certain rumours and whispers would begin to spread. For if there was one thing she had learned about hobbits, it was that they were _awful_ gossips, especially if there was a hobbit who was considered to be slightly 'strange' or 'odd', different from the rest; one such example was dear old Bilbo Baggins.

Despite their gossiping ways, Ilaira had always had a strange fondness for hobbits, and over the years she had grown particularly fond of those who dwelled in Bag End; the 'strange' Bilbo Baggins and his younger cousin Frodo who currently dwelled there. They did not know of her existence, like everybody else, but Ilaira found that she loved and cared for them deeply.

Perhaps it was because her Soul Tree was the oak on the hill above Bag End, or perhaps it was because of their adventurous spirits; she didn't quite know. What she did know however, was that even Frodo's friends, Sam, Merry and Pippin, had also become very dear to her; Ilaira made sure the garden at Bag End never wilted, though she knew Sam would never let that happen, and his love of gardening was one of the reasons she was so fond of him. The latter two of that list were _very_ entertaining, to say the least.

Even from a distance Merry and Pippin never failed to make Ilaira laugh, and she could remember the night of Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday party as clearly as one could see the moon on a cloudless night.

She had been watching the party from the eaves of her oak tree, legs dangling in the air as she sat upon a branch, enjoying yet another of the joint birthday gatherings; though this one was by far the largest. She could remember one of the wizard Gandalf's fireworks going off, though he had been nowhere near it at the time, and the blackened and shocked faces of two hobbits who were standing where a tent had once stood. Even from a distance she knew who they were, and the memory of their hair sticking out like they had been struck by lightning still made her laugh with glee.

The firework had been a magnificent dragon, so much like the real thing that the hobbits had ducked in fear, though as soon as it exploded into an array of brightly coloured sparks their faces lit up in joy once again. Ilaira's face had too lit up with joy, as she greatly enjoyed watching the wizards fireworks; she had met him but once, though that was many Ages ago, and she had wished she could speak to the wise wizard about the plight of her people many times. But it seemed he too had forgotten them, and so Ilaira stayed hidden within the branches of her oak.

It wasn't till much later in the evening that Ilaira stopped laughing.

It was during Bilbo's speech, when he paused to reach into his pocket and the party fell strangely silent that Ilaira's head tilted, her smile slipping off her face as the eerie quiet dragged on. She could not hear what Bilbo was saying, but when he suddenly disappeared, her brows furrowed and a frown was fixed upon her face, every muscle beginning to tense.

That night, a night that had so quickly turned from joyous merriment to confused panic, Ilaira recalled a strange feeling of familiar darkness, one that had returned with Bilbo from his adventures with the dwarves; a feeling so small, it was impossible to identify.

When she had first felt this familiar darkness Ilaira had resolved to keep an eye on Bilbo, and now that it was in this intensified state she had only the smallest inkling as to what it might be; but it was so impossible that she had immediately dispelled it from her mind. Evil such as that had _never_ reached the Shire; she had been keeping watch all these long years, and it just wasn't possible.

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That was 17 years ago, and Ilaira had noticed the darkness had not left with Bilbo on that night (for he was indeed still a visible Bilbo when he had returned to Bag End, promptly leaving after a talk with the wizard Gandalf, where for she did not know).

Gandalf had visited Frodo frequently for many years after that night, and every visit prompted more worry and doubt in Ilaira's mind that she had indeed been right; when the wizards visits stopped, she found that it did not ease her mind, and so she became even more vigilant.

She kept an eye on Frodo most of all, for the darkness, though small, still lingered within Bag End.

Ilaira had had little joy and rest during those long years, for dark thoughts were always creeping up from the recesses of her mind, like spiders crawling out of their dark caves to feast upon and consume the good and happy things in this world; so her dark thoughts began to consume her good ones, threatening to take hold. For she was alone, and without anyone with which to support her or to clear away the darkness.

The hobbits though, even if they did not know it, made her smile and laugh such as they had done this night, dispelling the darkness and giving her hope, for they were a light in this world that she would never allow to go out; they were something she was willing to fight for, no matter the cost.

The night was still clear and a chill had started to permeate the autumn air, the rustle of leaves as a breeze blew by sounding like the trees whispering their ancient secrets to each other, and this caused Ilaira to finally snap out of her musings. The hobbits were just leaving the inn, and so she stood and dusted off her clothes; they had not changed for thousands of years, but Ilaira did not mind (they were her favourite and most comfortable clothes after all, and she found it a great pain when they needed to be washed).

She waited until all the hobbits were out of sight, the night once again quiet and still but for the sound of singing crickets in the undergrowth, and she walked to the edge of the thatched roof before jumping down. As she fell, a few fallen leaves raised up on a small gust of wind to meet her feet, slowing her fall so that she landed softly, making no sound as the skirt of her dress gently billowed about her ankles.

She slowly made her way back towards Bag End, being careful not to be seen by any wayward hobbits on her journey.

When she arrived she found one Samwise Gamgee hiding in the bushes beneath one of the open windows. She could hear Frodo inside, talking to someone; the voice was old and gruff, and it could only belong to one man. Or rather, one wizard.

Ilaira's stomach dropped, and she immediately decided to join Sam in his eavesdropping. One moment she was there, the next she was gone; replaced by a small, yellow glowing orb, hovering in the air. She had transformed into a firefly, the only animal she _could_ transform into, and she zipped over to the open window which Sam was hiding under, landing on the windowsill.

Her wings buzzed in agitation as she listened to the conversation between Frodo and the wizard; a very bedraggled and weary looking Gandalf was currently saying:

"In the common tongue it says: _One Ring to rule them all. One ring to find them. One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them._ This _is_ the One Ring."

Ilaira felt like her heart had stopped beating, but she followed them into the kitchen none the less, hoping beyond hopes that Gandalf was wrong; that _she_ was wrong.

But the more Gandalf spoke of Sauron, of how Bilbo had found the ring on his adventures and brought it back with him to the Shire, the more everything made sense to Ilaira. Her suspicion all those years ago had never truly left her mind, eating away at the possibility the One Ring was still at large, and in the Shire no less! Yet she had continued to ignore it, preferring to stay in an ignorant state than face the cruel reality of it all; and she was a fool for doing so.

Now Frodo was about to leave the Shire, out of her reach where she could not protect him; but then again, she had failed miserably in that task, for his fate was now tied to that evil Ring and she had done nothing to prevent it.

She followed them back into the sitting room, where the bushes under the open window gave a sudden rustle, Frodo quickly laying on the ground under Gandalf's command.

Ilaira, still but a small firefly, smiled mentally, for it seemed that Sam had been caught; and Frodo would no longer be going on his journey alone.

That fact provided her with a little comfort, and when dawn came Ilaira followed the Hobbits on their journey through the Shire; she would follow them as far as her boundary would allow her to and make sure they were still safe whilst she could.

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The afternoon sun shone down on the tall field of ripening corn which two hobbits and a nature spirit were currently walking through, though the nature spirit was walking hidden within the corn stalks, keeping an ever watchful eye out for any danger that may come.

Her footfalls were silent, and she moved between the corn so gracefully that not one stalk stirred or rustled in her path. Ilaira had seen no trouble as of yet, and had remained unspotted for the duration of the journey so far, but… for some reason she could not shake the feeling that someone or something was going-

 _There! To her left!_

The corn was rustling as though someone were barrelling through it at a great pace, and Ilaira's head snapped towards the sound; whoever it was, they were heading straight for her.

She shifted into a firefly just in the nick of time, two hobbits racing through the corn where she had been standing mere moments beforehand; they would have slammed straight into her if she had hesitated in changing her form for even one second.

As it happened the two hobbits bumped into Sam and Frodo at full speed, both them and the vegetables the newcomers were carry toppling onto the ground in a messy heap. Ilaira, now a firefly perched on the leaf of a stalk of corn, could see the scythe of one Farmer Maggot waving above the corn field and heading this way, accompanied by the barking of a very ferocious sounding dog; the vegetables and fleeing hobbits now made perfect sense to her.

She looked over to see all the hobbits now standing, Sam holding an armful full of vegetables whilst one Peregrin Took dove into the field of corn on the opposite side of the path, and a certain Meriadoc Brandybuck pulling Frodo along with him as he followed his partner in crime.

If fireflies could smile Ilaira would be doing so right now; she would expect no other culprits but those two troublemaking hobbits.

She took pity on poor Sam, who suddenly found he looked rather guilty with an armful of stolen veg and thus had only just started to run in the opposite direction of one angry farmer, and she decided to distract their chaser, if only for a short while.

When Farmer Maggot arrived on the scene she raced around his head, a small glowing blur of buzzing annoyance, stopping him in his tracks, his hand flying up to try and swat her away from his face. He even began to spin in circles, scythe swinging precariously close to the tops of the corn, and he would have chopped them off if he had swung any lower. To save him from losing yet more of his crops, Ilaira sped away, back over the fields in the direction she had come, and leaving behind a disorientated Farmer Maggot, who attempted to continue his pursue of the hobbits anyway.

Ilaira landed on a scarecrows arm, transforming into herself again as she watched the hobbits race towards the edge of the field. She could go no further, for it was also the edge of her boundary from her Soul Tree, and so instead she sat and watched the corn rustling in the distance; one area of rustling corn was much larger than the other, and Ilaira could see she had managed to redirect Farmer Maggots path so that he was going away from the hobbits on a slight tangent.

Three black crows were also perched on the scarecrow, and the one she had landed next to squawked in surprise and indignation at her sudden appearance. Ilaira ignored the bird, her legs swinging as she thought about how it was very likely Pippin and Merry would now be joining Frodo and Sam on their journey to Bree; she wasn't entirely sure if that comforted her or not.

"Good luck, young hobbits. Please come back unharmed." Ilaira said, the rustling of the corn now the faintest of sounds in the distance.

The crow next to her squawked once again, its wings flapping briefly as it looked at Ilaira with intelligent eyes. This time, she replied:

"You'd worry too if you knew what burden they carried." She scolded the bird lightly. The crow on top of the scarecrows head then hopped as it cawed at her in reply, its midnight black feathers glistening in the sunlight.

Ilaira sighed, lowering her face as she said, "You're right. I _must_ have faith in them. One thing I've learnt whilst living in the Shire is the surprising hardiness and raw resilience of hobbits." She raised her head and smiled brightly at the crows, who ruffled their feathers proudly at having improved the spirits mood.

But the third crow, the one that had been perched on the scarecrows other arm, now took off across the field with a menacing caw, its feathers dulled by the now darkening sky, black clouds rolling in from beyond the field and shielding the earth from the suns warm rays. The corn seemed to sag and wilt in the sudden darkness. A chilling breeze blew across the fields, causing Ilaira's hair to fly into her face from behind. The two remaining crows suddenly took off with panicked caws, heading in the opposite direction to the third crow, their heavy wingbeats fading as they flew back the way Ilaira had come.

She suddenly felt _very_ alone.

A sense of foreboding settled in the pit of her stomach and refused to leave. She would restart her patrols round her Soul Tree's boundary, just as she had done when she'd first arrived in the Shire; vigilance was no longer enough, she had to be constantly moving around and physically guarding the borders and hobbits within, not just keeping a watchful eye out.

Ilaira's worries increased every day, and she was constantly patrolling the Shire whilst still making sure the hobbits did not notice her. It was becoming increasingly difficult to go unseen, as the hobbits themselves were anxious and jumpy, whispering about riders cloaked in black, the only two words one had said in a bone chilling voice being "Shire… Baggins".

'What have those Baggins's gotten themselves into this time?' They would mutter secretively, even though there were no Baggins's in the Shire to hear them speculate or to dismiss them. The hobbits would then proceed to look about them furtively, and of course there were those hobbits who did not believe such rumours and would just laugh at the others antics.

Yet these non-believers would still be wary of any strangers and of long shadows in the night.

Ilaira's feeling of dread increased at the description of these black riders, and there were several nights in which it increased even more so.

On one of these nights she had felt a great stabbing pain in her chest, so sharp and sudden that she was forced to her knees, one hand clutching her chest whilst the other supported her weight as she desperately tried to regulate her breathing again. Eventually it passed, but Ilaira was left with a strange feeling of emptiness, as though she had lost something of great importance to her.

She had not slept for about a month.

Not that spirits needed all that much sleep when they were close to their Soul Origin, but the lack of it meant Ilaira had far too much time to think in the dark and lonely hours of the night.

And tonight was no exception.

Ilaira sat in the branches of her oak tree, searching the shining stars above for the answers she so desperately sought:

 _Where were the Hobbits now? Were they safe? Had they been caught or-Valar forbid it- been_ killed _by the Black Riders?_

Ilaira would give anything to know the answers to these questions, to be by the hobbits sides and to be helping them on their journey. But instead she was stuck here, bound by her Soul Tree and feeling totally useless.

' _If only I knew whether they were safe… or whether Gandalf had indeed returned to them… then my anxiety would be subdued, if only by a little bit…'_ Ilaira thought as a light autumn breeze blew by, carrying leaves the colour of a roaring fire with it; every shade of red, orange and yellow. Just looking at the leaves made Ilaira feel more at ease, their warm colours dispelling the chill from her own heart.

"Ilaira."

The soft call almost made Ilaira jump out of her own skin as she spun towards the voice, and she found it had come from a woman standing just below her branch. Ilaira couldn't believe her eyes when she saw who it was and immediately jumped down to the ground, landing just in front of the woman; Ilaira could feel the waves of primordial power coming off of her, even from such a height.

"Lady Yavanna!" Ilaira cried in shock, quickly descending to one knee and bowing her head, "What brings you to Middle Earth?"

For the woman was Yavanna, one of the great Valar and creator of the spirits of the forests. She appeared now to be the height of the average Man, so as to be a little less conspicuous; she was usually as tall as a cypress tree, rather noticeable among the short hobbits. She was robed in a green so rich it seemed to speak of ancient woodlands which had once covered all the land, their roots deep in the brown earth and their great boughs reaching for the clouds, growing as tall as any mountain. She shone with a golden dew, faintly lighting the immediate area around her like the morning sun cresting over a hill at dawn. Her flawless skin was the colour of tilled earth after fresh rainfall, and her hair was so dark it verged on black, like the glistening feathers of a midnight raven. It was somehow both a tangled mess and perfectly curled at the same time, for within her hair were many sprigs of beautiful blossoms and green leaves, so perfectly intertwined in the rivulets that they seemed to grow out of the hair itself. Her eyes shone with a kindness and gentleness that no other being could have shone with; for Yavanna had created all living creatures and plants, and she cared for all of her creations deeply. Those eyes which were as green and as full of life as a sprouting sapling were now focused on Ilaira, who was still greatly shocked by the Valar's presence.

"You are concerned about the safety of the hobbits, are you not?" Yavanna said, her voice like the gentle rustling of leaves; quiet, yet easily heard.

"Well, yes, my Lady, but there is nothing I can do about that. And I'm afraid I am unsure of how that answered my question." Ilaira said, head still bowed.

"Because I wish to help you, my dear Ilaira." Yavanna replied, hands folded in front of her.

"I… I am honoured. Truly my lady I am but… How? And why?"

"You are such a brave spirit, Ilaira, and you are pure of heart. You can do much good on this quest; for that is what it will become, as the hobbits journeys are far from over, as I think you must suspect." Ilaira knew that what Yavanna said was true; Frodo's burden would not leave him so soon, nor so easily, and the road ahead looked long. "And my dear, I do not wish to see you suffer any longer."

At this Ilaira raised her head, a smile on her face as she said, "I thank you for your concern, Lady Yavanna, but I can handle my anxieties over the hobbits. I am sure they are alright-"

"Ilaira," Yavanna interrupted, "We both know you have been suffering for far longer than just this past month." She had a look of great sadness and empathy on her elegant face, seeing through Ilaira's light hearted façade, and she paused before saying with a small smile, "It is time Middle Earth relearned of the existence of the race of Nature Spirits, don't you think? You should not have to be alone any longer."

Ilaira was elated to say the least. In her excitement she explained this to Yavanna:

"For years now... For years I have wished for nothing more than the chance to see the spirits return, my Lady. To see my people once again walk this land... free and untroubled. But if I can aid them in this way… _And_ go to the hobbits sides to help protect them on their journey… Well I find that is my wish now."

"And that is why I am here." Yavanna said, inclining her head to the spirit, "Now we come to the how. I can give you the freedom you need to go on this journey; I can release you from the confines of your Soul Tree." She placed her hand upon the mighty oaks bark as she spoke, "But you must be certain Ilaira. Is protecting these Hobbits _really_ your one true wish?"

"Yes, my Lady. I am certain." Ilaira said, her eyes shining with determination as she looked up at the Valar.

"You understand that there must be indisputable conditions for your freedom, dear Ilaira?"

But Ilaira just smiled, saying, "It is as I said, my Lady. I would give up any wish or even hope of seeing my people return if it meant I could be by the hobbits sides to protect them wherever they go. I would gladly give my life for them."

"Very well," Yavanna said, and she had a glint of pride in her eyes, "I can see that your compassion will keep both your will and your soul strong on this journey. These are my conditions."

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 **A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. This is my second ever fic, and this is a much larger fandom than the last with many more stories out there, so thank you for deciding to read mine. Reviews are greatly encouraged, with good _or_ bad criticism, as otherwise there would be no way for me to know what it is you liked, what you didn't, and what you think I can improve upon. So:**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW!_**

 **Thank you again for reading, and hopefully I'll see some of you in the next chapter!**

 **-Limegreenarcher**


	2. Chapter 2: Crashing a Council

**Chapter 2: Crashing a Council**

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Silence ran throughout the Shire, the only sounds being that of the gentle breeze and the rustling of leaves; it brought with it the autumn chill and the promise of a freezing winter in a few months. The hobbits were all tucked away in their homes, safe and warm inside their quilted beds, no lights to be seen amongst the hills as they all slept peacefully.

But there was one hobbit hole which held a different kind of darkness to it; one telling of complete silence and stillness within, not a soul to be found inside and not one person willing to disturb the air within. Bag End gave off an isolated and lonely air, as though it had been abandoned and was patiently awaiting its owners return; but the more it was left waiting, the more it gave off a foreboding, eerie air, and the more it began to feel like a forgotten memory of a distant past.

Ilaira feared that that is what it would soon become if the hobbits met a foul end on their journey; it would no longer hold that same joy or lively spirit, and soon the memory of those that had lived there would fade away, the house falling into someone else's hands. Ilaira could not bear it if the hobbits did not return home and she was left alone, trapped here, watching as the house and hill passed to new owners and the imprint left by Bilbo and Frodo, as well as by the many generations of Baggins's before them, slowly disappeared before her very eyes.

Still kneeling before the Valar, Ilaira looked up as she said, "I gladly accept your conditions, Lady Yavanna." She meant those words with every inch of her heart, and it could clearly be seen in her eyes and in the strength of her stance.

Yavanna nodded, a gentle smile on her face as she said, "Then it is done."

Ilaira felt a small tugging sensation at her chest, and though it passed quickly, she was left with an odd feeling of loss, as though a part of her were now missing.

"You will find the Hobbits you seek in Rivendell," Yavanna said, "where you will also discover the path they shall choose to take. When and how you reveal yourself to them is up to you, my dear Ilaira; keep in mind that if your people are to return, a nature spirit well-known for their bravery and kindness will aid them greatly. I can do no more to aid you in this Ilaira, the rest is up to you to decide."

Ilaira bowed her head as she said with reverence, "I cannot thank you enough for this opportunity, my Lady. I owe you everything."

"You owe me nothing, child." Yavanna said, her tone soft and kind as always as she smiled down at the spirit, "Now go! It will take two weeks to travel to Rivendell as the crow flies. Or rather, three days as the firefly flies." The two women smiled and laughed together in the silence of the night, creating a melodious and beautiful sound like that of birds singing at the break of dawn.

Ilaira stood, bowing one last time with a smile upon her face. "Do not fret, my Lady, for I shall be alone no longer; I will finally get to meet the hobbits that I have been watching over for all these long years."

Yavanna simply continued to smile, and Ilaira moved over to the great oak tree to retrieve all that she needed; it was where she kept her weapons, the short sword, three daggers and assortment of throwing knives being her only possessions. She quickly tucked the throwing knives into their hidden sheaths in the sash around her waist and up her sleeves.

"Ilaira," The Valar's more sombre tone made Ilaira turn her head and pause in her movements for a moment. Yavanna continued, "The Hobbit who bears the Ring… was stabbed by a Morgul blade not two weeks ago... But do not worry," She hastened to add, seeing the distress in Ilaira's face, "He is being treated by the half-elven Lord of Rivendell as we speak."

Ilaira sighed slightly in relief, though she quickened her pace as she attached the sword and daggers' scabbards to the belt which was also hidden beneath her sash.

"Thank you for telling me, my Lady." She said, "I will make great haste to their sides."

Yavanna smiled warmly once more, and seeing that the spirit was done in her preparations she nodded her head saying, "Good luck, dear Ilaira. And may the spirits of the forest guide you."

Ilaira gratefully returned the nod to Yavanna, transforming into a small, glowing firefly before zipping off across the hills of the Shire, heading towards Rivendell and the hobbits who unknowingly awaited her there.

Yavanna watched her go, standing atop the hill above the hobbit hole known as Bag End, the moons cold light shining down upon the tall and proud oak tree which had taken root there, its occupant now gone as well. When the warm yellow glow had disappeared from Yavanna's sight, and not even a tiny speck of light could be seen amongst the darkness, the Valar's form began to disappear. Soon the place she had once stood was empty, and in her stead there was the faint outline of a human form made up of autumn leaves; they were the colours of a roaring fire, every shade of red, orange and yellow. The leaves were whisked away by a chill autumn breeze, and all trace of the Valar was gone from the hilltop.

The only clue that _could_ be found, if a hobbit were to look hard enough, were in the small, wild flowers which had seemingly sprouted there overnight; they had grown wherever the Valar had stood, and they bloomed even in the darkness of the night.

* * *

When Ilaira passed her Soul Tree's boundary she felt another slight tug at her chest, but she ignored it and pushed on; she was desperate to make sure Frodo and the other hobbits were alright, and the sensation had been so small and minute that she soon forgot about it entirely.

A day passed and she soon arrived in Bree, deciding to spend the night resting in the Chetwood just outside of it; now that she was free from the confines of her Soul Tree, Ilaira would have to get as much rest as she could (or at least, as much as she would allow herself) especially when using her powers for such an extended amount of time as she was now. The more she used them the more energy they drained from her now that she was out of the Shire, and using her firefly form to such an extent would take its toll over time if she did not rest.

However, no matter the logic behind it Ilaira found she could not rest for long; she was too agitated and anxious to properly get any sleep, and she found herself twisting and turning on the branch she had perched herself on that night.

As the moon began to dip back towards the horizon, the raucous voices of three men reached Ilaira's ears. They were quite clearly drunk out of their minds, judging by their slurred words and bumbling steps, not to mention the bitter stench of ale which reached Ilaira's nose as they stumbled closer to her tree. They were somehow managing to have a coherent conversation though, and so Ilaira couldn't help but listen in as sleep continued to evade her.

"Those Halflings… _Hic!_ … they were strange… weren't they? _Hic!_ " One of them slurred between hiccups.

"What… you mean those ones that were here a few weeks back? The ones that- _disappeared_ _ **."**_ Another replied with a dramatic flourish of his hands.

"Yeah… _Hic!_... that was _spooky_." The first ones eyes widened, brows raised.

"Ya were just seeing things," the third said with certainty. "Hobbits don' just disappear!"

" _Yes they dooooo!... Hic!"_ The first said, pouting slightly at the other man.

"He's right you know… I saw it too. And they talking with that… _Strider_ bloke." The second man said, eyebrows raising as he leaned towards the other man slightly.

"What?!" The third man exclaimed, "No one in their right mind talks to that Ranger! Stop ya yappering!"

"But its _truuuuu-Hic!-uuuee_!" The first man whined like a small child, pouting again.

"Didn't you hear… about those men cloaked in black, who broke into one of Barlimans rooms? He was scared stiff about it… and refuses to talk to _anyone_ about what happened!" The second man wiggled his fingers at the third and made an _OOoooOOOO_ sound, attempting to imitate a ghost. He received a shove for his efforts.

"Cut that out! There could be one of them Rangers in these woods and we'd never know it. I don' want one of them sneaking up on us."

"Do you think… _Hic!_... do you think those disappearing hobbits- _Hic!_ \- had anything to do with those creepy riders?" The first man said, his back slumping as he walked.

"Pftt yeah right." The third man said, "The only thing them damn Halflings are good for is eating you out of house and home! Barlimans lucky they didn't stay longer than a night, he would've gone out of business!"

The man laughed loudly and crudely, and it just so happened that he was passing underneath Ilaira's tree as he did so. Suddenly his laughter was cut off as he landed face first in the dirt of the forest floor with a resounding _Thud._

"Hey!" He shouted angrily, eyes fuming as he whipped his head around, "Which one of you's tripped me? Are ya searching for a fight?!"

The two just stood behind him, eyes wide with confusion and mouths moving wordlessly, trying to find some words, _any_ words. It was then that the first man raised a shaky arm, pointing to something on the ground by the man who had fallen. It seemed his hiccups had disappeared, as a steady stream of stuttered words flowed out of his mouth, though neither of the men could understand him.

They followed his pointed finger and saw that a tree root was sticking up out of the ground; the culprit that had tripped the man, it seemed. As they watched, it slowly slotted back into place in the soil, the wood creaking slightly as it did so. A long, eerie silence passed before any of the men could find their voices again.

"The-The-The-The tree's _alive_!" The first man screeched in an all too high pitched tone.

The other men's eyes widened and looks of horror and fear took over their faces as they finally comprehended what had happened. They tried to stutter out some words but soon found themselves turning tail instead, the third man stumbling to his feet as fast as he could, crying "Let's get out of here!" The men ran as though a pack of wargs were on their tails, trying to get away from the creepy forest which had somehow come to life to trip one of them up.

Ilaira meanwhile simply smiled to herself, patting the tree's rough bark as she settled down to get some sleep; there was still a couple of hours before dawn broke, and whilst she did not know who this 'Strider' was, she could only hope that he had not been a foe to the hobbits, as it seemed they had caused enough trouble for themselves in Bree without anyone else's interference. It concerned Ilaira how the drunken men had not mentioned Gandalf, but she eventually managed to drift off into a fitful sleep.

When dawn broke Ilaira set off again, and come noon she found herself standing upon Weathertop; a darkness lingered there, and Ilaira did not wish to idle atop the ruined watch tower for long.

Scorch marks littered the age old stone, and evidence of recent scuffles could be seen in the kicked up dust and dirt which had previously lain undisturbed for centuries. There was a small cairn of stones in the centre of the ruined tower, but Ilaira swiftly moved on; whatever battle may have occurred here, she could not change its outcome now, and so she continued on to Rivendell.

But the signs of battle upon that watch tower had only served to increase Ilaira's worry and haste; had that perhaps been the place where Frodo had been pierced by a Morgul blade? Ilaira hoped that was not the case, for it was many leagues from Rivendell and if Frodo had not arrived there on time….

 _Stop it,_ she thought to herself, _Yavanna said he was being treated by Lord Elrond… He is in safe hands._

Even so, Ilaira travelled long into the night. When the moon had reached its peak she arrived in the Trollshaws, the forest just outside of Rivendell. She could hold her form no longer, and a rest inside a forest would be more beneficial to her than if she had stopped earlier in the vast plains; and so she searched for a tree that looked comfortable enough to perch herself in for the night.

As she did so, she stumbled across three _very_ out of place boulders. Ilaira looked at them curiously, and when some of the moons pale rays shone through the canopy above she discovered they were in fact three stone trolls, caught by the sunlight and forever frozen in place.

Ilaira giggled to herself slightly; she knew the story behind these strange and stupid creatures well, and how they had been turned to stone by the wizard Gandalf. She marvelled at how it really did look like they had been arguing with one another, just as Bilbo had described it whenever he told of this part of his adventure with the dwarves, and her sister too had recalled many a times their ridiculous expressions, captured forever in the cold stone.

Ilaira smiled fondly at the memory; she missed the dear old hobbit and her sister too, and before she went to sleep she wished them both perfect health and happiness, wherever they might now dwell. She wished too that the four hobbits she sought were now safe and well in the elven city not so far away; she would discover their fates come morning.

The next day she arrived in Rivendell, hurrying through the beautiful valley full of tumbling waterfalls and trees of vibrant reds, deep golds and rich browns. She zipped about the halls as fast as she could, checking every window for any signs of the hobbits; she soon found herself stopping her speedy flight path very abruptly (the movement was so jarring she may have given herself whiplash if she were in human form), and turning back around as fast as she could she flew back towards one of the nearby windows.

There, in a far too large bed in a far too elegant and ornate room for a being from the Shire to find at all ordinary, lay one Frodo Baggins. Ilaira sighed with relief; his skin was paler than usual but his breathing was steady, and as she watched from one of the open archways Frodo began to stir. His muscles clearly ached and his shoulder was still giving him grief, judging by his slight grimace when he moved it, but he was alive and well. At least, as well as one could be after surviving a wound from a Morgul blade.

It was then that Ilaira noticed Gandalf sitting by the hobbits bedside in a beautifully crafted chair, smoking his pipe as he greeted the hobbit like it was any other ordinary autumn day. Upon seeing the hobbit smile at his friend Ilaira felt content enough to leave him be for now, and retreated to a nearby birch tree; she was exhausted from three days of intensive travel, and so she returned to her normal self, resting her back against an adjacent branch as she watched Frodo and Gandalf talk beyond the stone carved archways.

She was sure Frodo would meet with the other hobbits soon enough, and after a little more rest he did exactly that. Ilaira followed him as he made his way towards his friends, hiding in the trees nearby. The hobbits rushed towards each other in relief and joy, and upon seeing their reunion a huge grin spilt across Ilaira's face; she then breathed a heavy sigh of relief because they were alive, and they were together, and they were happy, and now that she had arrived too she could watch over them once again.

However, when she saw Bilbo sitting on a bench nearby she expected that she had the same look of shock and overwhelming happiness on her face that Frodo had when he saw his uncle just peacefully sitting in Rivendell; the dear old hobbit had aged so much since she had last seen him, and Ilaira briefly wondered if that was a side effect of holding the Ring for so long.

Relieved and happy to see that all the hobbits were indeed safe and well, Ilaira took this time to relax in another birch tree. She bathed in the warm sunlight and peaceful air of Rivendell all afternoon, her eyes blissfully closing as a gentle breeze tickled her skin and softly billowed her hair; oh how she had missed this place.

Throughout the afternoon and from her high vantage point in the trees, Ilaira saw many people arriving through the stone gates at the entrance to the safe haven; a lone man on a chestnut stallion with a large, round shield upon his back, a sword at his side and a heavy cloak wrapped around him. A small company of elves, their leader on a white and grey mare with a bow and quiver full of arrows on his back, a delicate and light-weight silver cloak covering his shoulders. A small company of dwarves of varying ages arriving on foot, carrying their hefty axes and weapons with ease, their beards long and groomed with care.

It seemed they would be representing their people in what was soon to be a quest against the evil that was the One Ring, even if they did not know it yet, and Ilaira would be doing the same. As she saw each company arrive her eyes began to set with more and more determination to see this through; she would hide no longer, and Middle Earth would once again know of the race of Nature Spirits.

The question was when. When would she reveal herself and her kind once more… and _how_?

These questions plagued her as she sat in one of the trees surrounding the open dining area that evening, crickets singing quietly in the undergrowth; a feast had been called, and she had managed to follow Frodo here as he had walked by. He was sitting next to and talking with an elderly looking dwarf, and Ilaira half-listened to their conversation as she watched the feast and mulled over her thoughts. The dwarfs name was Gloin, and whilst that rang a bell in Ilaira's head she could not quite place where she had heard the name before.

She ignored it however, as her mind was too preoccupied with the task at hand; her focus before had been purely on the hobbits, as she had been anxious to reach Rivendell and check on their wellbeing, but now that that question had been answered, Ilaira struggled to decide what to do.

She didn't quite know what was to come, or how things would proceed from here, but she did know that the hobbits would be involved somehow, and that she would protect them wherever they might go and against whatever dangers they might face.

Yet Ilaira was worried. How could she suddenly declare herself a nature spirit when no one even believed she existed, or had not even heard of them before? How could she earn the hobbits' trust, or anyone's, if they did not even believe she was telling the truth about her own race?

It would be no easy feat, that was for sure, and Ilaira didn't know when the perfect time to declare this was: In a small group? In a large one with many sceptical eyes on her? Or would she wait to tell only those she met at first, simply lying till the time was right?

 _No,_ Ilaira thought, _I couldn't lie to the hobbits about that… Perhaps an amble opportunity will present itself, in time._

She hoped so, at least.

The feast was coming to a close, and with everyone's bellies full the gathering moved to the Hall of Fire, where great stories would be told and songs of old would be sung. Ilaira too, moved with the gathering, wishing to hear these beautiful songs again. Yet her mind was so preoccupied that as she did so, she caused the trees leaves to rustle slightly; the sound and movement drew the attention of an elf: Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of the Woodland Realm to be exact. He found it odd, but dismissed it; it was likely just a bird, or perhaps a large gust of wind.

* * *

It was late into the night, and still the songs of the elves drifted through the air and around the halls of Rivendell; they calmed Ilaira's twisting thoughts, and she relaxed in content as she lounged in a tree just outside the hall, on the opposite side of a pathway. It had been so long since she had heard the sweet songs of the elves, and she adored them just as much as any other kind of music; they brought such a sense of calm and peace with them, and the soft melodies blended so beautifully with the gentle splash of the waterfalls and nearby streams, as well as with the rustling of the leaves and the quiet crackle of the fires inside.

Ilaira closed her eyes, her foot tapping along to the tune slowly. Without realising it, she had begun to quietly hum along to the familiar song, and this drew the attention of a passer-by who had been walking along the pathway below. Ilaira however, was lost in the melody.

"Should you not be fast asleep by now, little one?"

Ilaira took a sharp intake of breath as her eyes snapped open, turning with haste towards the voice that was far too loud and sounded far too near to her. Her legs were now dangling in the air and she had to hold onto the tree with both hands to prevent herself from falling off, due to the momentum she had created, and her eyes were wide as she stared down at the man who stood on the path below her. He was quite clearly looking at her, and there was nobody else around that he could have been talking too. Ilaira had been discovered.

Ilaira continued to stare at him, struggling to come up with the right words that would explain her presence there, but the man simply gave her a small smile, and his eyes were kind as he said softly, "Do not be frightened, little one, I mean to cause you no trouble. My name is Aragorn, or perhaps you have heard the name Estel instead?"

Ilaira knew neither of these names, but she realised that this man must have mistaken her for an elven child. She could think of no other way out of this situation, and so she decided to play only with his assumptions, tilting her head slightly and swinging her legs in the air as she said:

"Maaybeeee…. You won't tell anyone I'm out here though, will you my Lord? I don't want to get into trouble again." She pouted slightly, her eyes wide and brow furrowed, the perfect picture of a pleading child.

"I will consider it…" The man said, "Perhaps if you tell me your name and the reason you are out here, I will pretend I saw nothing."

"My names Ilaira, my Lord." She saw no point in lying more than she needed too, "And I just wanted to look at the stars."

At this Ilaira looked up, and Aragorn followed her in this motion, saying "They are certainly very bright tonight… quite beautiful too."

They stayed like that for a while, silently looking up at the stars which seemed to shine with a cold and distant light, and which meant so much to the elves. But eventually Aragorn broke the silence, looking back down at Ilaira:

"But why must you hide in a tree to do so?"

Ilaira continued to look at the stars as she replied, "It's a good vantage point, and I can hear the songs from here. Usually no one sees me up here so I get to think and listen in peace. This is my favourite place in Rivendell."

"You have indeed found an excellent spot to watch the stars, Lady Ilaira." As Aragorn continued, Ilaira looked back down at him, "But do not stay too long; we would not want you to get into trouble again, now would we?" He finished in a secretive tone, and Ilaira giggled as she said:

"No my Lord, we would not."

"Then I wish you a pleasant night, little Ilaira." With that he nodded to her, and when she returned the nod he continued his walk along the pathway, disappearing into the night.

When he was gone and Ilaira was once again alone, she sagged and released a large sigh of relief. She hadn't wanted to have to explain herself so suddenly, and to a random stranger no less! She was still vastly unprepared to reveal herself and her kind to anyone, but the man had seemed to accept her story; what he didn't know couldn't hurt him after all, and it was unlikely she would see him again.

But what Ilaira didn't know was that she _would_ in fact see him again, as he would be at the soon to be held council the very next day. And what she also didn't know was that Aragorn had noticed her eyes had held much more wisdom and age than an elf that size should have had, something he had pondered as he had walked away from her.

Yet Ilaira now settled down in the tree once again, this time much higher up to avoid being spotted by any other curious and vigilant passers-by, and despite her troublesome thoughts, for the first time in over a month Ilaira had a deep, restful sleep, in the safety of Rivendell's valley.

* * *

Golden sunlight filtered into the valley below as dawn broke over the cold peaks of the Misty Mountains, the light catching the water of the many streams and falls so that they shimmered like silver, and the birds sang in a cacophony of melodious twittering as they awoke from their slumber.

Ilaira too woke up, and it was not long before she heard the loud chiming of a bell; not one you would find in a clock, but rather one which presented the time of something important. It was not long after she heard this chime that she saw Gandalf rush past with Frodo and Bilbo in tow, and one Samwise Gamgee bringing up the rear. Ilaira had briefly heard that a Council would be held that day, and sensing its importance she followed the small group.

They soon arrived in a small, circular courtyard with various autumn trees surrounding it. A stone pedestal sat in the centre of the courtyard in front of Lord Elrond, and a semicircle of seated council members sat before him. Ilaira hid in a tree near the middle of this semicircle, as it gave her a good view of the majority of the council; as she looked around she saw the dwarf Gloin, as well as the people she had seen arrive through the gate the previous day and the man that she had unwillingly spoken to last night. Her eyes widened slightly at this, for she had not expected to see the man sitting at the end of the row, and he seemed to be rather reclusive, sitting slightly apart from the rest of the council.

As she studied the strange man something moved in the corner of her eye; she looked up just in time to see the heads of one Merry and one Pippin disappear back around the sides of the pillars they were hiding behind. She smiled at the two's antics, and if they were around, she had no doubt Sam would be too. Just as this thought crossed her mind however, a rustle came from the bushes just behind Frodo; it seemed Sam was back to his eavesdropping tactics again, and Ilaira hoped he was not discovered in quite the same way this time.

The council began, and Ilaira listened intently to the long talk of what had been happening in Middle Earth; news of the outside world rarely reached the hobbits of the Shire, and so Ilaira too had been clueless about it all. So much had occurred in those 3,028 years.

When Gloin told his tale Ilaira finally recalled where she had heard his name; he had been part of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, a company her sister Alwyn had too been in. But the dwarf did not mention her sister, nor had he last night in his many talks with Frodo, and it made Ilaira curious and rather puzzled. Had her sister remained with the dwarves after reclaiming Erebor, or had she gone elsewhere? Did the dwarves even know what she was? If they did, it would make Ilaira's task a little easier, but she doubted they knew anything at all about the existence of nature spirits.

When Elrond told the tale of the Ring and of the Second Age, Ilaira's mind was clouded with dark memories she had wished to forget, but never could. The destruction of the land and the abundance of death, the burning of a stark white tree, the feeling of isolation on a battlefield when surrounded by those who should be your allies. They were all small flashes in the recesses of Ilaira's mind, but they were painful nonetheless.

She could not help but feel guilty and responsible for the failure of the Last Alliance of Men and Elves; perhaps if she had done things differently, if she had not been such a coward, the Ring would have been destroyed that day and would not have fallen into the hands of Bilbo and Frodo. Perhaps none of this would have happened.

The two previously named hobbits then told their own tales, and though she had heard Bilbo's many a time, she had not heard Frodo's. She had indeed been right to worry about them on their journey, and she wished she could have been there to protect them. However, Aragorn seemed to have been an excellent aid in getting them to Rivendell, and it was extraordinary that he had managed to fend off five Ringwraith's as he did all by himself; as such Ilaira did not blame him for the outcome of that battle, and she was simply thankful for his help.

Frodo also mentioned the help given to him and the other hobbits by Tom Bombadil. Ilaira had met the odd man many a time, and they had quickly become great friends- though perhaps those are stories for another, less dark occasion than this.

Finally, Frodo told of how the river Bruinen had swept away the Ringwraith's and their steeds under Arwen's command, and Ilaira was overjoyed to hear this; even when in hibernation, the daughter of the river Bruinen had not completely abandoned the earth nor the elves she had once served and lived amongst. Ilaira found hope in this news.

The day wore on, and Ilaira continued to listen as Gandalf told of how Saruman had betrayed them. Ilaira had never particularly liked the White Wizard; he always had an air of superiority around him and he was the least fun out of all the Istari, but he had always nurtured the gardens around his tower at Isengard, and that had been one of his more redeeming qualities.

But now, it grieved Ilaira to hear of Isengards ruin and of how Saruman had destroyed the land around him, using it for his own foul goals and to give birth to dark and evil creatures. She now understood that sudden pain she had felt in her chest that day in the Shire, the one that had brought her to her knees in agony; she had felt the deaths and pain of hundreds of her fellow forest spirits as their trees had been cut down and uprooted from the soil that had given them life. These deaths had gone unnoticed by all but her. Ilaira struggled to keep the tears from her eyes at this revelation, but it only hardened her resolve to help her people return, to protect the hobbits, to protect those she cared for now, and to help in whatever way she could to destroy and rid Middle Earth of this evil that had spread across the land; she would see it all through to its very end.

Her teeth were gritted and her fists clenched as she watched the council below her, and now that everyone's tales had been told, Frodo revealed the source of it all; the One Ring. As it was placed on the stone pedestal, Ilaira could feel its evil presence reaching out to all those who had been called to this council, trying to tempt them into using it and into betraying them all. When Gandalf spoke the harsh language of Mordor it sent a chill up Ilaira's spine, and she was forced to grip onto the tree for support; if she had not, she may have fallen out, such was the effect of the dark and evil tongue of their enemies.

Ilaira studied each of the faces of those present at the council, but before she could study them all, the man she had seen arrive yesterday stood. He was from Gondor… and he was ignorant. He wanted to use the Ring _against_ Sauron, but he could not see the folly in that. Ilaira's brows furrowed in slight irritation and worry.

But the ranger known by the names Strider, Aragorn and Estel stood; he tried to reason with the Gondorian, but to no avail. One of elves even stood to defend him, declaring his heritage; it did not mean anything to Ilaira, but when it was said that he was Isildurs heir… she was surprised to say the least. She hoped he was nothing like his ancestor of old, but his kindness to her the previous night, and the fact that he had willingly aided the hobbits on their journey, suggested that he was not like them at all…

The elf's declaration however, had not helped Aragorn's case in the face of the Gondorian; but at least for now, the man had returned to his seat.

Ilaira knew they had only one choice, and that was to destroy the vile Ring before anyone else could get their hands on it. As Elrond announced this to the council, one of the younger dwarves rushed over to it, swinging his axe down upon the thing with full force and no hesitation; he was rewarded with a sore bum and a broken axe. Ilaira had to try and stop herself from giggling at the brazen dwarf, though she did feel sorry for him, and she noticed the cringe Frodo gave when the dwarf had tried to hit the Ring; Gandalf had seen it too, and it reminded Ilaira that Frodo's fate was indeed tied to that damned thing. She smiled though at Elrond's slightly snarky explanation to the dwarf that it could not be destroyed by a mere weapon, too late for the dwarf to heed the warning; really, some people never changed.

Yet as Elrond continued Ilaira grew more serious; this was the journey Yavanna had talked about, the path that would be taken to Mordor in order to destroy the Ring in the depths of Mount Doom.

But as Boromir spoke of what lay ahead for those that would take this journey, Ilaira knew in the back of her mind that she would not be able to complete it, if it was indeed the path the hobbits chose to take. She could not traverse the barren wastelands that lay before and within Mordor, for she would die in just a few days; she would lucky if she lasted a week, for no nature spirit could survive where nothing lived.

She pushed it to the back of her mind though, as an argument broke out amongst the council. Ilaira felt slight despair at the fact that dwarves and elves clearly still did not get along, but her opinion of Aragorn only increased when she saw that he was not arguing like the rest, but remained seated, just as Lord Elrond and Frodo had.

Ilaira focused on Frodo, drowning out all other sounds as she studied his face; he was clearly thinking and struggling mentally as he stared at the One Ring. Ilaira knew from the hobbits nature and by the conflicted facial expression he wore now, precisely what path he would choose to take. She could see what lied ahead of him, and though her brow creased in concern she did nothing to stop him; he was free to make his own choices, and Ilaira would follow him no matter what they might be.

As Frodo stood, she heard only his voice:

"I will take it! I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor!"

Silence fell over the council, for whilst they had been arguing like children, the smallest and most unassuming of them all had stood up, and had the courage that none of them had been able to muster in the face of such evil.

One by one, members of the council pledged their allegiance to Frodo and stood behind him, and again Ilaira had to stop a laugh from escaping her lips when Sam ran from the undergrowth to join his friend in his journey, and again at Elrond's face when Merry and Pippin leapt out from their hiding spots to also join the company; though she didn't quite manage to keep it all in when the latter happened.

Ilaira was filled with compassion for the brave hobbits who would risk their lives for one another, and she was grateful to all who had joined the company to support them. It would be a long journey, and a hard one, but she smiled widely at the courage shown by these men of all different races.

"Nine companions…" Elrond spoke, looking upon the company with pride, "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship, of the Ring."

At this Ilaira gasped and snapped out of her reverie; it seemed she had gotten rather caught up in the moment, but now she began to panic. What was she going to do?! The company was being finalised and she had yet to reveal herself! She had to do _something_ quick otherwise she'd never gain _any_ of their trust and she would miss her only opportunity to reveal who she was to them!

Pippin had just finished speaking, and it seemed as though the council was about to come to a close, and so Ilaira did the first thing that popped into her head.

She cried, "Wait!" as loud as she could, transforming into a firefly, zipping between the two men before her and then transforming back into herself, now stood before the Fellowship, and in the centre of the whole council. She then continued, declaring in a strong voice:

"I too wish to join the Fellowship."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading and thank you so much for your patience, words cannot describe how sorry I am for how long it been since I posted the first chapter. Its been what... 8 months? Damn... the next chapter certainly shouldn't be that long of a wait, as my exams will be over come mid June and so the summer shall begin and I will have more time on my hands. Also this is the longest chapter I have ever written for any fanfic, so perhaps that's some consolation, even if it is slightly a filler...  
Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who has favourited, followed and reviewed, your support means so much to me and I really hope this was worth the wait (and that you haven't completely forgotten everything that happened previously by now). I have made some very small adjustments to the speech with Yavanna in the previous chapter as it has been bothering me this whole time, but its nothing too big for you too worry about if you don't want to go back and search for it.**

 **Review Replies:**

 **Thank you to _Jesus died for us , donutcomeforme, _and _KEZZ 1_ for your reviews. I'm glad to hear you like my story, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter too!**

 _ **MonsterCupcake61176:**_ __ **I'm so glad you like Ilaira and can believe that she is part of Middle Earth, as that is what I was trying to achieve when creating her race; I wanted it to be realistic. I hope you continue to like Ilaira as the story progresses and more of her character is revealed, and thanks for telling me you listened to Peter Hollens! I'm glad you liked it, his music is great and the Hobbit Drinking Medley always makes me smile.**

 **So, once again thank you all for reading this chapter and for being patient with me beyond belief, and whether you liked what you read or not...**

 _ **PLEASE REVIEW!**_

 **-Limegreenarcher**


	3. Chapter 3: How to Prove Your Existence

**Chapter 3: How to Prove Your Existence **

* * *

"Right." Pippin said, "Where are we going?"

Before anyone could look at the hobbit with a mixture of disbelief and disdain on their faces, a sudden cry of "Wait!" caught the councils attention. Their eyes barely had the time to widen at yet another unexpected intrusion before a small, female child suddenly appeared right before their eyes, standing in the centre of the courtyard. The council's faces shifted into those of complete bewilderment, eyes wide and mouths agape; those who had seen a small, glowing orb dart out of the trees and suddenly disappear, leaving this small child in its place, were even more astonished than the rest.

"I too wish to join the Fellowship." The child declared in a strong and determined voice.

All the council could do was sit and stare in silence, watching this girl in a simple green dress stand tall, seemingly awaiting their answer. The dress ended just above her ankles, the cream centre panel containing delicate, light gold embroidery, a green sash wrapped around her centre, tied off at the side, and her sleeves opening up at the end to lightly hang upon her wrists. It was a style similar to that of the hobbits, the council recognised. Her loose hair fell down her back in wavy ringlets, all the way down to her waist, and it shone like gold in the autumn sunlight. All this seemed to indicate a harmless child, however the short sword and daggers strapped to her side told them a rather different story.

A few council members hastily reached for their own weapons at the appearance of this unknown intruder, but Elrond held up his hand in pause. They halted in their actions, and all waited with baited breath to see what Lord Elrond would do.

Confusion swirled in the old Elf's eyes as he slowly lowered his hand once more. The silence permeated the air, and it caused muscles to tense and wind up to the point where any movement from the girl would send them straight into action; all were prepared for the worst to be true at this secret council.

"It appears," Elrond stated at length, his eyebrow raising, "that we have another eavesdropper on our Council."

The girl turned to face him as though she were aware of the council's tense state, and said with a bow of her head, "Forgive me, Lord Elrond, for I meant you no disrespect."

"…And I take none." Elrond hummed. "Tell me, what is your name?"

"Ilaira, my Lord."

"Does anyone here recognise Lady Ilaira?" He asked, looking to the rest of the gathered council.

He was met with a few indiscernible grumbles and slight shakes of the head. None were too sure of Elrond's calm and cordial approach to this strange intruder, yet they themselves were too puzzled to try and argue otherwise with the Lord.

 _Ilaira...?_ Thought Aragorn, recalling the previous night, _Surely not… though it cannot just be a mere coincidence either… her voice and stature is just too similar for it_ not _to be true._ He continued to watch the child. _I shall stay silent, for now._

"How came you to this secret council? None here claim to have seen you in Rivendell prior to this time, nor to have ever seen you before this day. When did you arrive in Rivendell, and how did you come to learn of this Council?" Elrond questioned.

"I arrived but yesterday my Lord. As for this Council, I had no prior knowledge of its existence; I simply followed Gandalf and Frodo to this place." She appeared to answer with sincerity as she glanced at the two in question; the mention of their names caused looks of surprise to cross their features, and Ilaira continued with a small smile, peering behind her from the corner of her eye: "Though, I suspect that these are not the questions at the forefront of the council's mind…"

Elrond too, looked at the council at large, "If any here have questions, then they may speak them freely."

The heavy silence continued for a few moments more, but then a clamour of questioning voices erupted from the gathered council:

"What _is_ she?"

"A hobbit?"

"She may be the size of one but those feet are far too small-!"

"- A sorceress perhaps then?"

"There are none so young and so tiny-"

"Perhaps she is an Elfling then! Look at her ears-"

" _Nonsense!_ An elf wouldn't bring themselves so low as to _eavesdrop_ -"

"No matter what race she is we cannot allow this mere _child_ to-"

Joyous laughter cut through their flippant debate; it was a beautiful sound, like the gentle rustling of summer leaves. Their heads snapped to the out of place sound and found Ilaira heartily laughing as she held an open palm just in front of her mouth.

"Why are you laughing?!" Demanded Erestor, the elf who had just previously called her a child, with a note of confusion in his tone.

"Oh- well you see, Master Elf," Ilaira said, trying to take control of her laughter, "I find what you are saying rather funny."

"And why is that?" Erestor said, taking on a grandiose posture and tone of voice as he stared down the giggling girl.

After a few final cascades of laughter escaped her lips, the sound dying down to nothing, Ilaira took on a pondering look, tapping her chin as she said, "Let's see… how old are you, my Lord, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I am 19,376 years of age." Erestor replied, his brow furrowing.

"And if I remember correctly, Lord Elrond is one of the oldest here, born in the year 532 of the First Age and about 35, 927 years old. Am I correct in saying so?" Ilaira looked to the elf in question.

"You are indeed." Elrond said, nodding slightly to Ilaira.

She returned the nod, looking back to Erestor. "I was born in the year 10,000 of the First Age, during the Age of Trees. Which would make me… 26,459 years of age." All but Elrond's eyes widened at this revelation that had been stated so nonchalantly. "So, you see, Master Elf, I find what you were saying funny because to me _you_ are the child."

Erestor simply sat there with his mouth agape as the silence stretched on for an agonising few minutes until he eventually began to sputter in desperation, stumbling over his words as he tried to form a coherent reply.

Seeing as Erestor was struggling to find any words to cover his embarrassment and affrontedness, Gimli spoke up from within the Fellowship: "That's all well and good lass, but what are ye?"

"Why I'm a nature spirit of course!" Ilaira jovially said, her eyes closed and a large smile stretched across her cheeks.

Silence stretched across the council once more, but the clamour of voices which soon followed was not as loud nor demanding as it had been previously.

"What nonsense-!"

"-This girl is lying to us-"

"There are no such things. They are fairy tales we tell to children before they go to sleep at night!"

"They are a fable, an old wives tale!"

The dwarves and elves seemed to agree upon something at last as they laughed deeply and derisively, brushing off the little spirits statement; but her smile did not falter once in face of their ridicule, and neither the Fellowship nor Elrond, joined in with the Councils laughter.

"Silence!" Elrond said, bringing the Council to order, "We must give Lady Ilaira the chance to prove to us she is telling the truth, before jumping to any conclusions…" He looked over to Ilaira, a knowing glint in his eyes as he inclined his head towards her. "Well, my Lady? Can you prove you are what you say you are?"

"Oh! Erm…" Her eyes widened slightly, before staring at the ground in front of her. "Let's see…" Ilaira looked around her, her lips pursed in thought before her eyes landed on the autumn trees surrounding the courtyard the Council was sitting in. Her eyes lit up, "I know!"

She reached her hand out towards the rustling trees and began to chant in a language none of the council had ever heard before in their lifetimes, " _Morf nmutua ot gnirps dna kcab niaga, esrever ruoy larutan redro rof em, llif ruoy sniev htiw efil ecno niaga."_

It was a strangely guttural language, and it spoke of a primaeval nature; the creaking of ancient bark, roots burying themselves deep within the dark earth. It was an incredible jolt from the joyous, light rustling sound of her laughter.

The Council watched in amazement as the foliage on the trees around them changed from the rusty reds and golds of autumn, into the vibrant greens of spring; life seemed to enter the leaves once more, and even the air around them warmed slightly, the chill autumn breeze turning into a pleasant spring wind. However, as Ilaira began to reach the end of her chant, the lush green and life began to sap back out of the leaves, the air chilling once more and the trees once again back to their autumn colouring, as though nothing had ever changed.

All who were present could not help but just sit in stunned silence, staring at the trees as though in a dream. The dwarf Gloin was struck by her sudden resemblance to a female companion he had once travelled with on his journey to the Lonely Mountain, though he had never seen this kind of power before.

Gandalf's memory began to stir as he heard the guttural language aloud, and at length he said with a note of wonder in his tone: "Long has it been since I last heard that language… You are what you say you are my dear. That was no mere trick we just witnessed."

Ilaira's only response was to smile once more, a laugh escaping her lips as her grin creased the edges of her eyes.

The rest of the council was too shocked to speak, and so Elrond continued, "You have my thanks, Lady Ilaira. I believe that was sufficient enough to answer any qualms the council may have had." He struggled to keep the small smile off his face as he said, "Now that the matter of your existence has been settled, perhaps you could tell us why you have revealed yourself _now_ , and to join the Fellowship no less."

Ilaira took on a more serious expression, though her smile never faded, and said, "I came here because of the Hobbits." She turned to them, and bowed deeply, a hand folded over her front and the other behind her back, one of her feet raised and balanced on just her heel. "It would bring me much peace and gratitude if you would allow me to travel alongside you, to aid and protect you on this journey, young Hobbits."

All they could do was stare at her shock, stunned by the sudden formality and request personally given to them.

Erestor once more spoke up, however, " _Protect_ them?! How can we even be sure this little _girl_ can fend for herself? Let alone 'protect' others?"

"Did you not just see the magic she displayed?!" Gloin said, coming to her defence.

"Pfftt… A cheap trick-" Erestor was cut off by a small throwing knife in the shape of a leaf stuck in the deep wood of his chair, right between his legs, where previously only the silk of his gown had sat. Erestor choked on his words as his eyes went impossibly wide, and the whole council turned to see Ilaira, still bowing before the hobbits and her side to Erestor; however, her arm was outstretched in the same direction the knife had been thrown, and she stared at him down her arm, her eyes shining.

"I know more than just _'cheap tricks'_ , my Lord…" She said, "You should never underestimate people; for that is how my enemies end up dead."

Erestor stared at the small girl with pure terror in his eyes; he felt as though she were looking into his very soul, and that he were looking into the eyes of a very ancient being that held power far beyond his imagining. The thought of what she might do terrified him. There was nothing he would be able to do to stop this being's wrath.

To the rest of the Council, seeing such a long lived and grown elf quivering in fear before this small and bright child, was both humorous, and unsettling. Before they could ponder it anymore, however, Ilaira tilted her head, standing to her full height before closing her eyes and giggling brightly once more. The effect vanished, but Erestor remained quivering, his gown pinned to the chair.

"And just who _are_ your enemies?" Boromir questioned her, his eyes narrowing as he ignored the frightened elf.

Her brows furrowed, her eyes setting as she said, "My enemies are the same as yours; the Dark Lord Sauron, and all that brings darkness into this world must be stopped at any cost. I will be glad to at last see the destruction of that blasted Ring. It has caused too much suffering."

Seeming satisfied with her answer, Boromir nodded solemnly and Elrond continued, "Well, it appears as though your question has been answered, Lord Erestor. I doubt you have any more questions after that for the Lady."

Erestor simply coughed, readjusting his position in his chair as he tried to regain his composure.

"Oh!" Ilaira exclaimed suddenly, her brows raising in worry, "I'm so sorry!" Erestor began to prepare himself for an apology, his posture straightening and a smirk beginning to grace his lips until Ilaira suddenly turned to face Lord Elrond, her back now facing Erestor, "I seem to have damaged one of your beautiful chairs, Lord Elrond. Once again I must ask for your forgiveness." She bowed once more, perhaps a little more than was necessary for such a trivial matter.

"It is quite alright, Lady Ilaira. I believe what you did was necessary to adequately answer Lord Erestor's question." Elrond sagely replied, however, he could not hide the glint of humour in his eyes from her. "Is there any member of the Council who wishes to ask another question to Lady Ilaira? If so, then speak now."

The Council remained silent.

Elrond continued, "Then it is time for the Fellowship of the Ring to make a decision: will Lady Ilaira be joining you on this quest, or not?"

The Fellowship exchanged unsure glances with one another, mumbling nothing in particular, unsure of what to do.

Gandalf spoke up, "Seeing as it is the Hobbits the Lady has come to aid, it is the Hobbits who shall decide." He looked down at the Hobbits, and all awaited their answer.

They looked stunned at one another before huddling together in a small group, whispering to each other in excitement and confusion.

"Well?" Merry said, "Should we let her come with us?"

"She bowed to us! Us! Like we're _Kings_." Pippin said with an excited grin on his face.

"I don't think she sees us as _Kings_ , Pippin…" Frodo said, trying to rationalise with him, "It was probably a sign of respect and comradery, I suppose…"

"Well I don't trust her." Sam said.

"Why not?" Pippin asked.

"I dunno…" Sam said, his features skewing slightly, "How come she seems to know us and want to protect us, when none of us have even met her before?"

"It is rather odd…" Frodo agreed worriedly.

"Why didn't you ask her before, Sam?" Merry asked.

"Well, I hadn't thought of it then!" Sam replied indignantly, his posture straightening.

"I think we should let her join." Pippin said, his enthusiasm unchanged, "What could be the harm?"

"What could-?!" Sam stuttered, his eyes widening, "Any number of things could go wrong-!"

"Think about it this way Sam," Merry said, gesturing with his hand, "If she comes with us, you can interrogate her all you want. But if she doesn't, you'll never find out."

Sam hummed as he thought about it briefly, "I suppose it would mean I could keep an eye on her…"

"What do you say Frodo? What do you think we should do?" Pippin asked now that Sam had been pacified.

"I think she can join us. After all, we'll need all the help we can get." Frodo said, a grim expression on his face, "And we'll have the rest of the Fellowship if it turns out we can't trust her, though I do not believe that will be the case. She seems genuine to me…" He cast a slightly wary glance at Ilaira; Frodo truly hoped they were not being naive in trusting her, but everything about her seemed to speak of honesty and trust. For now, they'd just have to go with their guts.

"Then its settled!" Pippin declared, the hobbits then exiting their huddle and once more facing Ilaira. "We have come to our decision." He said, arms behind his back and his chest proudly pushed outward, chin high in the air, "Frodo, if you will."

Ilaira looked at them with large, doe eyes, her hands clasped in front of her chest as she seemed to hold her breath, her shoulders raised.

"We have decided that you may join the Fellowship on our journey, if you are prepared to risk the dangers that we may face." Frodo stated kindly.

"I am ready to aid you against whatever it is you may come across on your journey; whatever it is, I will protect you with my life." Ilaira said, the conviction clear in her tone.

Gandalf placed his hand on Frodo's shoulder, nodding to the Hobbit as he looked up at him and taking over, "Now, if we have the Councils blessing…" He was greeted with a few grumbles and nods, but no objections, so he continued, "Then welcome to the Fellowship of the Ring, Lady Ilaira."

She could contain her joy and relief no longer as she released a short squeal, rushing to embrace the Hobbits before her, wrapping her arms around all four of them and bringing them into a crushing hug. "Thank you!" She said, her relief clear in her voice, "Thank you so much! You've no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that!" She then released them, hopping back so that she could face the entire Fellowship and bowing deeply once more, "I will not let you down, I swear it."

* * *

After that the Council ended, and Elrond showed Ilaira to the room she would be staying in for the next two months as they prepared for their journey to Mount Doom.

"It has been a long time since we last met, Lady Ilaira." Elrond said, always looking ahead as they walked through the halls of Rivendell. "And a long time since I last saw one of your people. I had believed that your people would not return; after all, the Elves too are leaving this land. I had come to the belief you had done the same, and simply let everyone forget about your kind, as they are bound to do with us once we are gone."

Ilaira sighed as she looked down and said, "That is something I wish had never happened. I believe we still have a place here on Middle Earth, whether everyone has forgotten us or not."

Elrond glanced at her as he said, "I will admit that I had forgotten you also. It took me some time to remember you, and my memory has never failed me. Why is it that even Mithrandir did not remember your people till you spoke your native tongue?"

Ilaira sighed once more, "When people forget nature is a living thing just like them, when they take it for granted or hold a disrespect for the life of the creatures and plants around them, they forget who we are. We are half person, half nature, and so we simply blend in with that which they take for granted. We are easily missed if not searched for, and the more people who forget about us or abuse nature, the more the knowledge of our existence disappears."

"Then why hide? Why choose to blend in with your surroundings if it means they are destroyed all the more?" Elrond asked; he always knew how to get straight to the point.

"When nature is deserted by the people of these lands, the spirits abandon those who forget them. They no longer choose to help them, and instead grow to despair or despise them for their destructiveness. I know many spirits have grown tired of trying to change the ways of people who would rather continue to destroy, than live in harmony with nature." There was great regret in Ilaira's voice. "I wish this relationship had never come to pass. I did nothing to try and mend it but stick to the old ways, but they were not large enough measures for the damage that had already been done by the time I realised its state." Her eyes now set in determination, however, and the regret was replaced by conviction, "But it is not our time to leave this land and its nature to its fate. Whilst I still stand in Middle Earth, there is still hope my people will return and the balance in our relationship restored."

There was a long silence then, before Elrond replied, "They will forget you eventually, my dear, even if your people return. They always do with time. History is fated to repeat itself."

Ilaira smiled slightly, "You may be right, but right now, it is worth fighting for, for those that are alive now. Even if we do fade from memory once more, perhaps a respect for nature will remain this time, if we do things right."

Elrond paused outside a door that would lead into Ilaira's lodgings. "You have an honourable quest, as always, Lady Ilaira. But a heavy burden. Do not let it drag you into a dark abyss when its enormity strikes you."

Ilaira nodded gratefully, "Thank you, Lord Elrond. I know my task is not easy, but it is something I _must_ do."

He returned her nod, a smile on his face, "You will need plenty of rest for the task ahead of you. Be sure you are ready for the journey ahead." With that he left, and Ilaira was once more alone.

She wandered through Rivendell, searching for the Hobbits. Yet when she found them, laughing and smiling with Bilbo in an open courtyard despite the quest now looming over them, Ilaira could only stand in the shadows between two buildings behind them, watching them from afar.

"You do not wish to join them, Lady Ilaira?"

Ilaira jolted with a sharp intake of breath as she turned to see Aragorn approaching behind her. He had spoken in a hushed tone, and Ilaira had been too preoccupied with her own thoughts to notice his silent approach.

"Lord Aragorn!" She replied in an equally hushed tone, "I am sorry, I did not see you there!"

"And I am sorry for sneaking up on you as I did." He replied with a slight bow of the head, "I was curious as to your stillness and wanted to be sure you were well. I apologize for startling you."

"That's alright," Ilaira said with a small smile and breathy chuckle, "And I am quite well, no need to worry. Though, I do owe you an apology…"

"Whatever for, my Lady?"

"I lied to you last night… I am not the elven child you mistook me for, and yet I let you believe that was the truth anyway." She said, looking down as her brows furrowed.

"It is quite alright." Aragorn said, "I understand now why you did it." Ilaira looked up at him as he continued to speak with a small smile on his face, and there was a humorous glint in his eye; one which did not quite hide his underlying suspicion, however. "I did not forget my words on not telling anyone of your late-night stargazing…"

Ilaira smiled up at him, brightening up but making sure to never break eye contact as she spoke, "I understand if you do not trust me now, Lord Aragorn. After all, I did lie to you, and that is something I deeply regret. Yet I hope I may still prove myself to not only you, but the rest of the Fellowship also. I know that the way I appeared before you all was not the best way to garner your trust, but I was left with little choice at the time."

Aragorn hummed, his eyes barely widening at his surprise that she had noticed his suspicion. "You are a mystery to us all, Lady Ilaira, but you are a lot wiser and stronger than you first appear to be. It is my hope we become strong allies in the battles to come."

"And it is mine as well." Ilaira said before looking back towards the Hobbits. She spoke a little more hesitantly this time, "To answer your previous question… may I be completely honest with you?"

"If that is what you wish, then go ahead." Aragorn said.

Ilaira paused for a moment before speaking once more, "I have been on my own for so long now… And throughout my isolation, I longed for _any_ interaction with another living person… I was thrilled by the prospect of actually getting to _speak_ with the Hobbits I have kept watch over during these long years. But now…" Her brow creased. "Now that the opportunity is right in front of me, so close that I could- I _should_ \- grab it with both hands… I… I find that I am rather afraid. Now that I'm here, now it's actually possible, I find myself too afraid to go speak to them." Her laugh was somewhat bitter as she said, "It's somewhat ironic, isn't it?"

"And so instead you continue to watch them from the shadows, is that correct?"

"Yes, it is."

They stood in silence as they watched the Hobbits from afar, both Ranger and Spirit blending into the shadows of the narrow alley.

Aragorn may not have completely understood this 'isolation' she went through, nor why, but he offered his answer as best he could, and with a small smile on his face said, "You needn't worry, Lady Ilaira." She looked up at him, her forehead still wrinkled slightly, "For you are talking to me right now, and you seem to be perfectly relaxed in doing so. The Hobbits are far more welcoming and friendlier than I, though they may be wary of you at first; they tried to attack me when we first met. I believe Sam was wielding a chair…" Ilairas eyes widened slightly before a large smile spread across her lips. "Once you get past that initial stage, you'll be absolutely fine, in my opinion."

He let that sink in for a second before continuing, "And it would benefit you greatly to establish some trust with the Fellowship before we leave on our journey, don't you think?"

"Yes," Ilaira said, gazing at the Hobbits, "And I have an awful lot of work to do on that front. If I'm going to protect them, I'll need their trust first." She appeared to mentally shake herself before smiling as saying, "I need to get back to my old self again! Moping around in the shadows will do me no good! Thank you, Lord Aragorn, for your wise words. I know now I have nothing to fear."

Aragorn nodded, "I wish you luck in your endeavour then, Lady Ilaira. I look forward to seeing you back to your old self again." With that he gave one final bow, turning and walking back the way he came, leaving as silently as he had approached.

Ilaira watched him leave and then turned back to the direction of the Hobbits. Sucking in a deep breath she skipped out of the shadows, humming the drinking songs of the Shire to herself as made her way towards them.

* * *

When she spoke to the Hobbits, her remaining nerves instantly dissipated. Sam had still been cautious and wary of her, but she did not blame him, and the rest of them had made polite conversation with her. Yet she made sure not to spend too much time with them; they would not find such a peaceful place to rest for a long while once their journey began, and she did not wish to disturb them.

 _Besides,_ Ilaira thought, a little solemnly, _my presence would only lead to them asking me the inevitable questions… And I am not ready to answer those just yet._

Fortunately, the Hobbits did not ask her any of those questions when she did spend time with them; perhaps because they were still wary of her or perhaps because they thought it would be too impolite to ask a stranger such personal things. Either way, Ilaira decided to tell them instead of her travels, of the lands she had seen and the creatures she had met. As she had suspected, it kept their whole attentions trained on her stories, and they exchanged tales of their travels with one another whenever they met; Bilbo took particular pleasure in this.

Ilaira, however, spent most of her days wandering Rivendell.

She could often be found amongst the groves of trees; all had seen her sitting or standing in the groves, always in contact with a tree or plant. She seemed almost in a meditative trance, her hand placed upon the rough tree bark as the chill winter breeze ruffled her hair around her. She had even been seen by the many streams which ran through Rivendell and by the river Bruien doing the same thing, her hand trailing in the cold water.

No one ever saw her smile fail in those few months, never saw her frown; but whenever she came out of her trance-like state, her eyes held a sorrow to them, and she looked unsurprised. She had heard no responses.

She remained a mystery to all who rested at Rivendell; her past and her people were still unknown, and none had had the courage to ask her.

The evening of their departure arrived quicker than they had hoped it would; the trees were now bare, void of any life, and their jagged branches were barley visible against the dark, dreary sky. Cold permeated every inch of the December air, the late hour and the sun nearly gone from the sky only making the cold sink deeper into their bones.

Ilaira adjusted the warm cloak that now hung from her shoulders, her bare toes tapping against the cold stone steps she waited upon; she could barely make out the shadowy figures of the rest of the Fellowship as they too waited in the plaza. They all stood so far apart from one another, their warm breath creating small puffs of cloud before them, and silence between them weighing down the already heavy air.

The first small, bright stars were beginning to appear in the sky above, barely visible through the thick clouds. Ilaira stared up at them.

 _No more wasting time,_ Ilaira thought, _I can finally prove myself; to the Fellowship, to my people. To Yavanna. To all of Middle Earth. The spirits and their history will be remembered at last._

She looked back to earth as Elrond entered the plaza with Gandalf. In a solemn tone Elrond spoke of the task ahead of them; how some may take a different path from the rest, and how they were free companions who may turn back when they found the road was too dark, for they were not bound by any oath to see this through, and none could truly tell what they may meet upon this road.

Gimli, ever stubbornly believing in the strength of their faith in this task, argued with Elrond: "Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens."

"Maybe," Elrond replied, "But let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall."

"Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart."

"Or break it."

Their exchange only reminded Ilaira further of her own task; of her vow to the Hobbits, and to herself and her people. She would see both vows through, though doubt swam in her heart as to whether she could truly travel with the Hobbits all the way to Mount Doom, through the lands void of life around it.

Despite all this, Ilaira continued to hold the small smile on her face, as none of the others present in this plaza could muster anything but a frown. She would always hold this small smile upon her features, as the darkness of their minds would claim them long before they met any enemies upon the road, if they forever hung their heads beneath this oppressive cloud as they did now.

She knew they were all curious about her, she knew some of them were warier than others, and she knew the time would unfortunately soon come for her to explain everything to them.

After a final farewell from Elrond and Bilbo, the company left the safe and peaceful lands of Rivendell. The darkness of night was descending upon them, but a glimmer of light still remained in Middle Earth; The Fellowship marching out from Rivendell.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh my goodness. Its... I don't even want to look honestly. I didn't get round to updating this last summer, as I actually barely did any writing (though that didn't stop me from starting another fic...).  
I have been hesitant to write this year after hearing about Article 13, which will be voted on in the EU tomorrow. If you don't know what article 13 is, its very harsh copyright laws which will remove fanart, gifs, fanfic, memes, amvs, remixes, essentially anything vaguely copyrightable in the EU. However, I have found the energy to update here despite this threat. Hopefully, if this legislation does go through, I will still be able to update and share my fics with you guys, I dont intend on disappearing for as long, but we shall see (even without Article 13, uni may leave me with as little free time as my previous course, and if so rip me).  
But I digress. I hope you guys remember me and Ilaira! This was a pretty dialogue heavy chapter, so my apologies, and it may be a little rough as I havnt written anything for a year and I was getting back into the swing of things. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed!**

 **Review Replies:**

 **Thank** **you to** _**NoxNightKing**_ **and** _ **KEZZ 1**_ **,** **for your continued support, your reviews really mean the world to me, and they do motivate me when I consider giving up for the day.**

 ** _MonsterCupcake61176:_ I'm glad you enjoyed the previous chapter, and Ilaira's silly decisions lol, and I hope this one was worth the wait too! haha...**

 _ **Sparksofrandomness:**_ **It never fails to bring a smile to my face when people tell me they love Ilaira! I put many hours and pride into my OC's, so thank you so much!** **She's an adorable little thing ;)**

 _ **VanyaNoldo22:**_ **My apologies for the wait mellon nin, but your review really brightened my day and your encouraging smile did work! I hope you continue to find my fic interesting and enjoy this latest chapter!**

 **Edit: Just a quick note I forgot last night on the Nature Spirits language Ilaira chanted in. It's not a complicated cypher lol, so if you want to read what Ilaira said in English it should be pretty easy to figure out. And I've found reading the chant quickly and just sounding out all the syllables instead of thinking really hard on pronunciation is the best way to get a feel for the language.**

 **As always, thank you all for your support, even you silent readers! I know this is just a small fic in terms of readers, but Ilairas story must be told! And as always, your reviews really do motivate me and actually let me know you guys are enjoying what I write! These chapters can take 2-3 days to write, so reading and receiving your reviews really keeps me going during that time. My apologies once more for the incredibly slow update, but I shall hopefully see you in the next one, Article 13 allowing.  
So whether you liked what you read or not...**

 _ **PLEASE REVIEW!**_

 **-Limegreenarcher**


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